


C is for Couch

by frecklesarechocolate



Series: Alphabet Ficlets [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff, M/M, Napping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-01
Updated: 2014-11-01
Packaged: 2018-02-23 13:11:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2548682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frecklesarechocolate/pseuds/frecklesarechocolate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The couch is old and ratty, filled with lumps. </p><p>But it's a damn fine place to take a nap.</p>
            </blockquote>





	C is for Couch

The couch is old and lumpy. Well worn, used by many over the years, but no less comfortable for it. The cushions are faded on one side, lines showing where pillows had settled for years.

Cas had found it at a yard sale, and tied it to the roof of his Lincoln while Dean laughed himself into a fit of hiccups. 

But the couch came back to the bunker with them, and after a lot of yelling and grunting, they got the thing inside and settled into the library. 

The first time Dean falls asleep on the couch, Cas shoots him a knowing smirk when he wakes. Dean scrubs his face and chalks it up to the fact that he’s still recovering from his stint as a demon and the subsequent cure.

The second time Dean falls asleep on the couch, it’s because Cas fell asleep first, and Dean couldn’t keep his eyes open for much longer after that. “The dumb angel looks so peaceful, it’s like a drug, Sammy,” Dean says in his defense.

"Uh huh," Sam responds, wisely sipping from his coffee mug and not saying any of the things that are running through his mind.

The third time Dean falls asleep on the couch, it’s because he’s up late, waiting for Cas and Hannah to return from their mission.

No, that’s not right. He was watching tv, and the show was pretty boring. Yes, that’s what it was. It’s definitely not because he was making sure that Cas got back home safely.

Definitely. Not.

The couch becomes the place where Dean naps - though he refuses to call it that. One afternoon when he wakes from his nap, he’s draped in a knitted dark green blanket that no one in the bunker seems to have any knowledge of. The following week, after days of complaining of a crick in his neck from sleeping on the couch’s arm, he wakes to a soft pillow with a well-worn pillow case beneath his cheek.

The fact that Cas is unable to meet his eye when Dean questions him about both the pillow and the blanket is telling. Dean drops the subject, merely clapping Cas on the shoulder and giving it a brief squeeze.

The following week, Dean sets about his afternoon nap deliberately. He changes into sweat pants and an old t-shirt, slightly frayed at the edges, and pulls on a pair of warm socks. (Despite the fact that the bunker has a heating system, they haven’t managed to find the thermostat to set the temperature. It’s perpetually a touch too chilly.) He makes his way to the library by way of Cas’s room, not bothering to knock, since the door is wide open.

Cas looks up from his book, startled. “Dean?” Cas asks, but Dean makes no reply. Instead, he plucks the book from Cas’s hands and lays it carefully on the desk, and then grasps Cas’s hand. He pulls the angel behind him, leading him to the library and the lumpy couch.

"Sit," Dean says, gesturing. Cas hesitates, but then gives a half shrug of his shoulder and does as he’s bid. Dean settles on the couch next to him and tugs at the blanket. He settles into his favored position, and then makes an irritated huffing sound when Cas doesn’t move from his seated position.

"Cas…" Dean says, gesturing at the couch. "Don’t just sit there."

Cas frowns, considers saying that he doesn’t understand what Dean wants, but it would be a lie. He knows exactly what Dean wants, and there’s no point in pretending otherwise. He stands and removes his overcoat, which he places over the arm at the far side of the couch, and then he lies down next to Dean, who wiggles around until he’s positioned behind Cas, his arm draped over Cas’s chest. They pull the blanket up over their shoulders and let their heads fall to the pillow that’s taken up permanent residence on the couch.

After a long moment of listening to each other breathe, Dean scoots closer and lets his mouth settle at the nape of Cas’s neck. He doesn’t speak out loud, but his lips move. Cas can’t immediately tell what Dean’s saying, but the sentiment is clear.

"Me too, Dean," Cas says. "Now go to sleep."

Dean huffs a laugh, sending a gust of warm air over Cas’s neck, and then he relaxes. 

It doesn’t take long for either one of them to drift off.


End file.
